I have a death wish. Not the "let's sky dive without a parachute" kind of death wish, an actual death wish. Please, God, let me die while I still know me. And hurry and take my mother. What did she do to deserve living in paranoia and confusion?
Guess that is really 2 death wishes. One for her because I love her. One for me because I am scared.
I have heard friends say that as their parents had to move to a nursing home or care facility the parent's friends and peers never visit. It is all up to the family at that point. That seems cruel until you have spent way too much time in one of those places. You are looking at your future. No one wants to know that is true. Run, hide, don't look. Put off worrying about what is going to happen to you. I am there and I am not 60 years old, close, but not yet.
This fear began when my mother-in-law got Alzheimer's. She was mean so it was hard to tell if she was confused or hateful. By the time she set the kitchen on fire it was obvious she was mean and had dementia. She went from home, to assisted living, heart attack, hospital, nursing home. That was two weeks.
Current and I spent four and a half years driving to Hot Spring, Arkansas from Texas to take care of her needs. Hire sitters, people to watch her condo, take care of her financial and legal business. Thank heaven she had all her paperwork in order, filed, in a safe deposit box, her attorney knew everything and her financial advisor had paperwork that said Current was her POA. That part was easy. Watching her die was not.
They, meaning the hospital, lost her false teeth. Nursing homes don't do that sort of dental work. There was no way she could sit in a dental chair to be fitted for new teeth so she spent her last years toothless. She had diabetes and circulatory problems. She had a femoral bypass so her legs wouldn't die. One died anyway. They cut it off. She had diabetes. She was kept on a diabetic diet. The staff pricked her purple, bruised fingers before every crappy meal so she wouldn't get too many carbs or sugar. THE WOMAN COULDN'T WALK OR TALK. She cried a lot. She needed to die. She had a living will. She had a DNR. They wouldn't let her die. Her leg was removed because of gangrene. "You can't let her die from that", said the doctor. "I can let her die from a drug overdose or a pillow on her face. The woman wanted to die. Not lie here in shit all day unable to move or speak. Let her die". "NOT from gangrene, it's too painful". "If she was a pet and not a human, she would be mercifully put down. Let her die". He thought I was a non Christian, mother-in-law hating bitch. I thought he was a money grubbing pig. We were called no less than eight times to tell us she wouldn't live through the day or the night or the weekend. We kept vigil. She would almost die....then open her eyes. They would pump her with fluids and food and keep her hanging on......they wanted all her money? She didn't have much. They enjoy suffering? Look around, it's everywhere.
Eventually she died. Penniless and shrunken. It was pitiful.
I prayed neither of my parents would have dementia. God answered that prayer. BOTH my parents have dementia. They had made funeral plans and had a will. That's it. No living wills, no directions, no talk about what they wanted. I initiated these conversations as my mother-in-law got worse. I told my parents that one day you are seemingly fine, the next day the kitchen is burning. PLEASE, let's make plans. Let's decide what you want now while you are lucid. My dad, who has always been terminally stubborn, found this silly, typical daughter stuff. "We want to stay in our house. When we need help we will hire someone". That's the plan. Easy for him. Makes my life hell.
As mother became obviously sick, Dad became blind. Not literally, figuratively. There was nothing wrong with her. She was just "getting old". He was getting to be an alcoholic. I didn't know that until he was having nothing but beer and scotch. I took it away from him. He threatened to kill me with his bare hands. My dad. Two drink maximum dad. Since dad drank so did mom. I spent a night in the ER while they pumped her stomach. Alcohol poisoning. THEY didn't treat her dementia either. She was just a drunk old lady. They gave her "the treatment" for alcoholics in the hospital for a week. They didn't put her on any medication to slow down her dementia. "Her doctor can do that". SHE WON'T LEAVE HER HOUSE. I got nodded at a lot.
I went to doctors, social workers, hired care givers, no one helped. Doctors wouldn't. The social workers said, "wow, that is difficult. You could turn them over to the state". Care givers were turned away at the door every time I wasn't there to force my parents to let them in.
I did the ultimate. I did my version of calling in the army. I made my brother come here. He got to stay two days before a family emergency took him back to Connecticut.
For three years I tried to care for my parents, pay all their bills, (first I had to find their money....they didn't know where it was). Pay the IRS for the years my dad just didn't, he forgot. Figure out how he gets paid. He didn't know. Pay his homeowners insurance if he had any. He wasn't sure. Figure out his retirement and what happens when who dies first. He thought we worked for Convair. YEAH, in 1950.
My mother just needed someone to tell her where the dog is, what food is for, that we really need to clean her ass becaue she is leaving feces every where she sits. This made her MAD. Real MAD. Dad would tell me to LEAVE YOUR MOTHER ALONE. It was a nightmare.
They are now safe. Mom is paranoid all the time. Dad is the Clark Gable of the locked ward. This is my future. DNA, RNA, LMNOP, whatever, seems to me the deck is stacked against me. I HATE going there to visit. It is so sad and depressing. But I go. I go stare my future in the face. There I will be. Only my daughter won't be showing up. I will have to depend on the kindness of strangers. People aren't that nice.
I talked to my doctor. I told him my fears. He told me to quit smoking. I told him that we need to go see my parents and on the way back to his office he will ask me for a cigarette.
I will smoke until the government takes that away from me. You know they will. They want us healthy so we can all end up not knowing where we are and crapping in our pants. No thanks.
Here is what you need to do. Have a will, a living will, a DNR. Legal ones. Tell everyone where they are. Have your attorney keep copies of everything. GET ORGANIZED. File all your paperwork about everything. Home, car, insurance, wishes, bank information, your mother's maiden name or any other password you have used that involves money. Doctor's name and office location, medications you need, who should get your stuff, who should be bitch slapped. Funeral and/or memorial service arrangements and wishes, down to the music and Bible verses, prayers and whatever else you want. MAKE COPIES OF EVERYTHING. Your family or the sucker who gets saddled with you will appreciate it.
And don't expect visitors in the home unless you have dutiful children. But after a while you won't know who they are.
Where are my cigarettes? Questions like that scare me.
Lillybell
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